


Chasing Paper

by deardracula



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deardracula/pseuds/deardracula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The newspaper in his hand told him it was the fourth of February and the ID in his wallet told him his name was Sirius Black, and he believed it because he knew no one would ask anyway. He had found himself in some diner along the east coast of the United States, the bed he used to call his own somewhere across an endless body of water, kept safe and unused by people who didn't want him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title courtesy of The Beatles

  


He was looking in a mirror and he knew that, but with his eyes nothing more than thin bands of grey around an endless explosion of pupil, he could barely recognize his newly sunken face. He could hear laughter in the other room, but it was three planets away and barely audible over the rush of blood in his ears and god, he was sinking. Drowning in something so thick it filled his lungs and sunk right into his slowly moving blood stream, weighing him down as he watched the identical man in the mirror, very much alive even though he himself was dying. They were two completely different things; two characters of two different stories, sharing nothing more than a face and deep seated self-loathing that was prevalent in both sets of hopeless eyes. He thought about how he’d very much like to be the other man, the one looking back at him, blinking in synchrony. He was trapped behind that glass in a world that was backwards to the one he was living in now and even though the same faded blue walls stood behind both of them, it seemed safer where he was.

There was a knock at the door and he jumped, breathing heavily, crossing the room in one bound, his fingers searching for the small brass doorknob that would reveal him to the rest of the world. He didn’t like the thought of other people seeing him like that: vulnerable and unsure that his hands would move if his brain told them too. He was buzzing and he didn’t know how to stop. His entire entity was hot and humming and he felt like he would split at the seams and spill out all over the floor. If he could just peel his skin back and step out of himself for a moment, he would be able to see clearly again, he was sure of it.

He didn’t have time to hook his fingers under the skin of his wrists though because a fist was pounding on the door and it was like someone taking a hammer to the back of his head and working a nail into his brain. He opened the door, smoke from the over room choking the unfamiliar bathroom he was standing in. There was a girl on the other side of the door that he didn’t recognize, her bare breasts prominent against the thin cotton of her white t-shirt. “I just want this to end,” his voice didn’t sound like his own, his tongue too big for his mouth and his throat rough from lack of use.

“Bad trip?” She pushed her thick blonde curls off her shoulders. “I hate that.” She squeezed past him, corralling him into the main room of the motel. He suddenly felt like a turtle without a shell, dumb and exposed in a room full of people that didn’t know his name. _The Kinks_ were playing softly somewhere in the corner, white noise to the soundtrack of razors scraping wood. He couldn’t figure out when his life had turned to such shit. His hair was long enough to sweep across his hallowed out eyes and his skin was thin and grey, the color of ash as it fell silently like snow across a scorched forest.

The life he used to live and the one he was bounded to now had melted together somewhere along the way. He was trapped in an inescapable maze and sinking fast. Faster than anything he could imagine.

* * *

He thought about going back every minute of every day, but he was scared and the only thing he knew how to do any more was run and keep running because life couldn’t keep up when you were moving as fast as he was.

The newspaper in his hand told him it was the fourth of February, 1969 and the ID in his wallet told him his name was Sirius Black, and he believed it because he knew no one would ask anyway. He had found himself in some diner along the east coast of the United States, the bed he used to call his own somewhere across an endless body of water, kept safe and unused by people who didn’t want him back.

There was a cold cup of coffee by his elbow and powder under his fingernails and proof of countless nights riddled with insomnia smeared under his eyes. The diner was empty all but himself and a man in a suit slumped over a plate at the counter and a help wanted sign hanging in the window. He thought it must have been very early on a Saturday or very late on a Wednesday but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was Monday afternoon and the universe just thought it would be funny to place a well-dressed man in the same diner as him just to remind him of the fact that he was painfully unemployed.

Sunlight poured through the Venetian blinds to his left and painted shadows across his chest like the strips on a prisoner’s shirt. The clatter of diesels passing by outside kept his mind clear and his knees jerking like they thought he should keep running until he hit the ocean that licked at the opposite coast. He ran his tongue over his teeth to ensure that there were still thirty-two of them secure in his skull. He wished the coffee sitting beside him was hotter and he wished he had eaten something so it wasn't burning through his stomach lining. The waitress that had brought him the watered down coffee in the first place, announced her presence with the loud smack of chewing gum. "Can I get you anything else, sugar?"

He looked up slowly, his eyes settling on her heavily painted face. "Maybe some more coffee, when you get a chance." He tired for a smile but it didn't catch. She turned away and retreated behind the counter where the coffee machines and soda fountains sat idly.

It took forever and the rattle of the heater and the ticking clock on the wall was driving him mad. His legs were jumping and his heart was pounding but he didn't know why. He could hear the trickle of coffee filling the pot as it was being made in hyper-detail and a cold sweat broke out across his brow. He dug his wallet out if his back pocket and threw a five on the table, a bell ringing over head as he shouldered his way out of the diner.

He was parked around back under a cluster of trees and next to a dumpster so old rust ate away at the chipping green metal. He unlocked the door with unsure fingers and slid in behind the wheel. There was a tobacco pouch under the worn bench seat where a little plastic bag sat under a pile of rolling papers.

He ignored it though and lit a cigarette, determined that the reason for his shaking hands was due to the nicotine slowing draining out of his system. The windows around him began to fog as smoke clung to the glass, the temperature outside dropped as hot ash at the end of his fingertips crept closer and closer to the filter.

He finished that cigarette, then another, then half a pack until the air in the car was so dense he had to crack the window and let thick clouds of smoke roll out into the vacant parking lot. He thought about how he could die right then and there, his stiff body freezing into the vinyl seats until someone found him days later when they went to take out the trash.

He looked back at the diner apprehensively, then down at the holes in his jeans and wondered if they would matter. He wondered if people looked at him and judged his entire life over to the state of his trousers.

After another moment, he kicked the door open, the old hinges screamed in protest as he stepped into the crisp autumn air. His boots clattered loudly in the empty lot.

The waitress for earlier wasn’t there, she must have finished her shift or was out on her break and he was grateful for that. He didn’t need her to recognize him from about thirty minutes before and make him feel anymore foolish than he already did with his hair falling thickly around his face, the help wanted sign now clutched in his unsure hands.

He approached the middle-aged man behind the counter, the manger he presumed from the name tag hanging on his worn white t-shirt. He had a dirty apron tied around his waist, his peppery grey hair receding with age. He stood in front of him for a long moment, waiting from him to acknowledge his presence but he continued to stand there, slowly cleaning the glass in his hand with a threadbare cloth. He cleared his throat finally, the man looking up at him slowly. “I noticed this hanging in the window and-“

“You want a job.” His voice was course as he looked him up at down once, his eyes unreadable. “Name?”

“Uh, Sirius… Black.” He shifted uncomfortable. “Sirius Black.” He repeated more firmly, setting the sign down on the counter.

“Any experience?”

“No sir. Not in the restaurant business anyway.”

He hummed, setting the glass down in a drying rack. “Can you cook?”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose so.”

“Get in there and cook me something then.” He nodded to the kitchen where he a noticed a wide set black man with a thick mustache and an afro peeling potatoes over a large plastic trashcan through a glass-less window cut into the wall.

Sirius stepped around him slowly, pushing open the door leading to the kitchen, avoiding the mocking look from the man peeling potatoes because he was sure if he saw doubt in his eyes, he would run out of there and never look back.

He stood over the stove awkwardly, looking behind him at the less than professional grade refrigerator. There was a skillet already on the burned so he washed it, the feeling of two pairs of eyes on him making his skin feel tight and his fingers shake. He turned and fished a carton of eggs from the top shelf of the refrigerator and cracked them into a bowl.

He cooked them like his Uncle Alfred had taught him when he was young with spices he didn’t know the names of but could recognize in the cluttered shelf above his head. He didn’t know how impressive it was, but he knew it was something he wouldn’t fuck up, not like anything on their limited menu would be too difficult but it was better to be safe rather than sorry.

He set them on a plate and the placed the plate on the window ledge were the man was leaning, watching him to see if he had made them properly. He looked at Sirius through thick, dark circles, taking the plate and pulling a fork out a plastic tub somewhere on the counter beside him. He took a bite, narrowing his eyes like he was about to tell him off, kick him out and lock the doors behind him. Sirius' stomach twisted into knots as the man's teeth clicked against the metal fork. “When can you start?”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Sirius met Remus with a bandana in his hair and holes in his jeans. It was somewhere around eight thirty in the morning, which meant blurry eyes and cheap gas station coffee. It wasn't even good coffee, it's taste resembled something like sewer water that several people had used as an ashtray. Inevitably, it spilled – scorching hot – all over his lap. His hands left the wheel and his foot slipped on the gas and by some inopportune coincidence, there happened to be a Volvo 164 in front of him in all it's forest green glory, at a stop sign in the otherwise vacant stretch of suburban road. He cursed loudly, throwing his car into park and stepped out side, his boots noisy against the pavement. “Shit.” His face twisted as the man in the other car stepped out, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “This is all my fault, mate.” Sirius grunted, gesturing towards the cars.

The man blinked at him slowly, his mouth curling into a smirk. “Are you from London?”

Sirius' mouth fell open like he was going to answer, but he just rocked his head, startled by his forwardness. He breathing out a a laugh, “Is my accent really that posh?”

“Too posh for those jeans, I'd say.” Remus smiled.

“Yeah well, I guess my teenage rebellion never really left.” He ducked his head to look down a the gash in the denim over his knee, his fingers brushing the wet patch of coffee cooling on his thigh.“Let me guess.” Sirius looked up, squinted inquisitively. “You're from Bristol?”

“Devon,” he shrugged, still smiled.

“Well fancy that.”

“Small world.” Remus shoved his hands in his pockets. “I'm Remus Lupin.” He stuck out his hand, the opposite shoulder hitched up to his ear.

“Sirius Black.” He took his hand, the touch lingering even after they stopped pumping their arms.

“Well, this doesn't look too bad.” Remus coughed slightly and Sirius let his hand fall away as he looked over at their bumpers, pristine paint kissing rust bitten metal. “Maybe I should, you know, give you my information... if anything comes up.” He patted his pockets quickly before ducking back into his car in search of something to write on.

“Yeah, if you think you should.”

He came back out with a pen and a napkin, leaning over the roof of his car to scribble something down. “Here,” he smiled, the skin around his eyes folding and their fingers brushing as he handed Sirius the note.

* * *

The writing on the napkin in Sirius' hand was thirty-six hours old. The corners were curled and fraying from where he had rolled them between his fingers nervously. He was sitting there on his kitchen counter with a knit brow and a bruising lip being worked between his teeth out of nerves. There was an honest to god phone number scribbled across the top of it, the pen Remus had used had torn the digits around the blue ink. The numbers weren't what concerned him though, because that's what people did when some moron hits their car, but the three little words scrawled beneath them were what really had him thinking: __Just in case.__

He had spent every second of the thirty-six hours wondering what it meant. Maybe that was embarrassing and a little bit obsessive, but he felt like he and Remus could be real mates if they just got to know one another. Remus had assured him that he didn't need to worry about it, no damage had been done, so he must want him to call. As mates. Because why else would he have done it?

Sirius sighed deeply, grabbing the phone off the wall, leaning over the sink to dial the number. He twisted the cord between his shaking fingers, his lip swelling between his teeth as he chewed it violently. The phone rang once before he threw it back against the wall. “Shit.” He dropped his head into his hands, his fingers in his hair.

He was trying to find reason to the fluttering in his chest and the knotting in his guts , but he came up short of an answer. He balled the napkin up in his fist, throwing it down next to him. He jumped off the counter, standing in the barren kitchen, his hands hanging heavily by his sides. There was a dead refrigerator to his left and cracked tile under his feet. He sighed, thinking about that stupid boy with his stupid khakis and his stupid Volvo. Why did he have to hit him? He was finally falling into a happy pit of denial, coming to terms with his barely-usable pull out couch and the view of another brick building three feet from his window. Maybe he would buy a van and be a nomad. Traveling the country doesn’t make you a dead-beat like a dead-end job did, it made you adventitious. Cultured. Delusional.

He spun on his heels and picked up the napkin again, smoothing it out against the slab of linoleum he called a counter. The receiver was between his shoulder and head and his fingers were pounding numbers into the dial before he had time to think. It rang one, two, three times before his heart-rate picked back up and his palms began to sweat. It wasn't until the sixth painfully daunting ring did someone picked up. He wholeheartedly expected to hear a cheerful greeting by an employee at a pizzeria on the other end or something equally as humiliating, but when he heard a groggy __hello?_ _ In his ear, something cold shot down his spine.

 

“Bollocks.” He looked at his wristwatch, completely forgetting that people that had their lives together were asleep at three in the morning. “Sorry mate, sorry. I lost track of time and-”

 

“Sirius?”

 

“Yeah, wow you remember.” He laughed nervously.

 

“Yeah, of course.” He returned the laugh, his voice rough with sleep. “Did you find something wrong with your car?”

 

“No, no. It's the same piece of crap it's always been.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, smiling because he forgot Remus couldn't see him. “No, I was, erm-”

 

“Are you alright?” There was the squeak of bed springs on the other end like he was sitting up and the hint of a stifled yawn through the receiver. Sirius could picture him there in a pair of matching pajamas, switching on a bedside lamp, his hair sticking out at weird angles as he laid back against a padded headboard in some extravagant king sized bed.

 

“Yeah.. Sorry.”

 

“No, don't apologize.” Maybe he had a girl there, sleeping beside him in one of his t-shirts that went down to her knees.

 

“I just wanted to know what you meant.” The words spilled out of his mouth before he could tell them not to. He could feel his face growing hot. He felt like a big dumb kid, standing there alone in his depressingly lit kitchen, blushing like a school girl in his oversized pajama bottoms and bare chest. He couldn't put a name to the tight feeling under his ribs. Couldn't or didn't want to, he wasn't really sure.

 

“Meant by what, mate?”

 

“What you wrote on that napkin.” It hit him suddenly, right in the chest like a trip hammer. He could have written that bloody note out of nothing but common courtesy. “Wow, you probably think I'm mad. Hell, I think I'm mad.” He pressed a fist into his eyes, scoffing shortly. “Completely off my rocker. You were just being nice. Wow. Never mind.” He gritted his teeth, about to hang up the phone when he heard the faint sound of a 'wait' on the other end as he pulled the receive away from his face.

He pressed it back against his ear, his stomach dropping when he was greeted by silence. “I just thought maybe you'd like to get together sometime.”

Sirius' mouth fell open silently, pulling the curly cord into his fist. He nodded once, short and barely there. “Yeah. I mean, if you want. Yeah that would be brilliant.”

Remus laughed on the other end, more relaxed than the first time. “How about you give me a call in the evening and we can sort something out?”

* * *

He was distracted the entire day at work, under cooking bacon and burning toast. He wasn't sure what was so important that it was pulling him away from his work, blurring his common sense as it numbed his brain. It wasn't until the third broken glass did his boss yell at him and he cringed, apologizing and spending the last half of his shift fighting through an overpowering haze.

His boss made him leave fifteen minutes early with an irritated “I don’t even want to look at you anymore” as he walked out the front door.

He need a distraction from his distraction. Something to calm his nerves because he couldn't focus on anything. Not the walk to his car or the tuning of the radio. His hands turned the key in the ignition and steered him in the direction of Peter's house, some low-budget speed-freak he bought his shit from. They weren't friends, just a friend of a friend of an acquaintance that he had met a week after arriving at the American shoreline. He always seemed to have what he needed so they kept it business casual, only talking when money was involved.

He pulled up in front of his house after a fifteen minute car ride from the diner. He avoided his reflection in the rear view mirror as he killed the engine, fishing a wade of money out of his glove department. He strode up to the front door unannounced, wrapping on the ply wood with his knuckles.

There was the sound of breaking glass somewhere inside, followed by a string of curses and the __bang_ _ of a slamming door. “Who is it? Is it the cops? You need a warrant to search the place you know, so you can just fuck off.” Sirius blinked, taken back.

“No, Peter, it's not the police.” He shoved his hands in his pockets at the sound of locks being undone.

“Sirius,” he smiled, “what can I get you, my man?” He stepped aside so he could come in.

“Whatever you've got, Pete. Haven’t really been too picky lately.” He shrugged, looking at him hollowly in the dimly lit living room. It was pathetic really. He didn't even give himself enough time to build up an addiction before he was on to the next thing he could get his hands on, always looking for something new to numb his mind.

“You name it and I've probably got it.” He lead him down into the basement, reminding Sirius to duck as the approached a low hanging pipe. “I've got shrooms? Peyote? You seem like the kind of guy that likes to kick it old school.” He said, chewing on his thumbnail.

Sirius shrugged. “Yeah, whatever.” Peter nodded, ducking into a back room as Sirius waited by a battered couch out in the main room. There seemed to be a permanent cloud of smoke lacing the ceiling and the shag carpeting below him was littered with stains in an assortment of colors. Sirius sighed, his face falling as his fingers trailing over the chain around his neck, cold metal resting on his sternum under his shirt.

Peter came back sometime later with a bag in his hand, shoving it into Sirius' chest after he got his money. “So, you need someone to do that with?” He eyed the bag hungrily, his pupils dilating.

“I've got somewhere to be, actually, but next time...” His voice trailed off as Peter waved his hand dismissively, turning to lead him back up the stairs.

As they go to the door, there was the muffled sound of happy chatter outside before a bell chimed throughout the house. “Oh, that's Frank.” Peter stood on his toes to look out the arched shaped window at the top of the door before pulling it open, a group of his friends falling through the frame. Sirius stood off to the side, the bag sitting heavily in the pocket of his jacket as he waited for the doorway to clear so he could make an escape. They greeted Peter with hugs and pats on the back. “Hey, Sirius.” He yanked him forward by the shoulder. “I want you to meet Frank Longbottom. We go way back.” The dark haired boy, Frank, smiled at him, pushing his pink tinted sunglasses up into his hair.

“Pleased to meet you, Sirius,” he gave him a nod and Sirius returned it polity. “This is the love of my life, Alice,” he motioned to the willowy girl on his arm, her long skirt fluttering around her ankles as she stepped forward to give him a hug.

They tried to convince him to stay as Pink Floyd began to poured from the cheap speakers the record player was hooked up to in the corner of Peter's living room, but it was two in the afternoon and it was a little astonishing that so many people had so much time to kill doing whatever it is they did on a weekday, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to be sucked into their impending spiral of self-destruction. He still had some standards despite what outsiders may have thought.

It took some time before Sirius could escape, Peter wishing him good fortune and happy tripping as he stepped out onto the front porch.

He felt heavy. Beaten down and impossibly low, the skin hanging on his bones was too loose, his frame too big to hold his withering soul. He made it to his car in one piece, not really knowing what had triggered the massive dip in his mood.

* * *

It wasn't long before he was slumped against the back of his couch, a headache pounding against his temples as he reached for a box of cigarettes laying on the coffee table, forever prisoner to the parasitic rolls of condensed happiness. He broke off the filter and lit one, the burn in the back of his lungs something he had grown to live for. The walls melting away around him as he watched with wide, unsure eyes. He wondered what he looked like from the outside, starring at the walls like he was with his pupils stretched out so unnaturally. He wondered if Remus would hate him for being so weak.

He had a double shift in twelve hours. Twelve ungodly hours riddled with pitiful, early morning TV and enough cigarettes to put down a horse.

He put the cigarette out on the table, adding to the honeycomb of burns forming at the corner. There was nothing to do at eight in the evening in the boondock town he had chosen to inhabit. It was an hour reserved for recluses and empty chested no-bodies and he didn't want to be one of those people. He didn't want to give up, even though the black and white re-runs bursting across the television set in the corner was tipping the scale in that direction.

He looked down next to it at the suitcase he never got around to unpacking, one of two pairs of jeans he owned spilling over the sides. There was a handful of t-shirts and another pair of trousers thrown in there somewhere along side a jacket he didn't want to think about baring a name that wasn't his.

He groaned, pressing down on his eyes with the palms of his hands in a feeble attempt to sooth the thoughts thundering through his stagnant brain. His mind was moving a thousand miles a minute, too fast for him to keep up. He hated being alone more than anything he could think of, especially when he was like this, feeling like he did. He hated being trapped in his own skull because he always though too hard, too long, involuntarily diving into the parts of himself he strictly wanted to avoid.

He eyed the phone wearily, his eyes feeling loose in their sockets. He closed them briefly and stood up, swaying on the balls of his feet threatening. He opened them and groaned at the colors that shouldn't be splattered around the room.

He reached the phone and found the napkin underneath it, touching the blue numbers with the pads of his fingers for a moment before dialing the number.

He thought it would ring longer than it did, so when a question was being spoken on the other end, it had caught him off guard. It was repeated as he leaned against the stove. “Who's this?”

 

“Who is this?” He asked the female voice on the other end.

 

“You're calling to ask who I am?” She sounded angry and Sirius winced.

 

“Is Remus there? Lupin? He wanted me to call him this evening and-”

 

“No, not at the moment. Can I ask who's calling?”

 

“Are you his mum or something? His sister?”

 

“His girlfriend.” She hissed. “Can you just tell he who you are so I can hang up the damn phone.”

Girlfriend. __Girlfriend__. The word bounced around in his empty skull, vibrating it's way down his spinal column and landing in his toes. He hung up the phone without so much as a goodbye, trying to shake the feeling twisting in his gut.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

The hours at the diner were shit and the pay was shit but at least he was keeping busy and maybe that was all that really mattered.

He cooked and smoked and cooked some more, all while trying to convince himself that repetition was good, people needed cognitive order in their lives to keep them sane. But with every screaming child that came and went and every syrupy mess he had to clean off tables between meals, he was just about ready to peel his skin off.

The man that worked in the back with him with the afro and heavy mustache, Al, was nice enough and they got along, but their boss was an angry little man with three divorces under his belt and a limp from a piece of shrapnel lodged in his knee that he earned from his time in the second World War. The establishment was small enough that they could get by with one waitress, a bus boy and a cook, and Sirius thought that with such limited staff, they would get some respect or at least some appreciation, but instead it seemed like he went out of his way to make their lives miserable.

It was a slow Wednesday morning and there was rain violently pounding on the tin roof. Not a single customer had come in since they opened their doors, so Al pulled out the box of cigarettes rolled in his sleeve and offered Sirius one before turning to retrieve a fraying pack of cards out of one of the over-packed cupboards. “You play?” He asked around the smoke in his mouth. Sirius shrugged, nodding as Al found a couple of turkey pots to turn upside down to utilize as chairs. He dealt cards out on an over-turned trashcan between them, leaning over to switch on the portable radio he had set down beside him. Sirius took the cards in his hand, trying not to grimace over his bad luck.

Three soul filled songs and twenty lost dollars on Sirius' end later, the bell out in the main room chimed and the waitress that had been doodling on a napkin at the counter got up to take whoever it was a menu and a glass of water. Al stood up with a grunt, leaving the cards where they were as they went to their appointed posts in the kitchen.

All things considering, Sirius enjoyed cooking for the diner. Maybe the pay could have been better, but some money in his pocket was better than no money. And maybe he didn’t want to stay where he was for the rest of his life, but for the time being, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

The waitress leaned over the open window in front of Sirius after a few minutes to hand him the order on a pink slip of paper. He smiled at her as she went back to her drawing.

He took comfort in the rhythmic tune Al always seemed to be whistling while he worked, the pop of the waitress’ gum, the clatter of dishes and the chatter of happy voices out in the main room. He made a lot of pancakes, which he wasn’t too good at in the beginning but now the first batch didn’t even burn and the consistency in the center was firmer than liquid and if that wasn’t an achievement he didn’t know what was.

As he held a deep metal bowl to his chest, stirring batter for chicken and waffles like the order requested with a long wooden spoon, Al leaned on a broom beside him and watched the thin water in the bowl mix with cheap boxed power before dissolving into thick, unappetizing folds. “So I have these tickets,” he started, his knuckles curling around the chipping teal paint of the broom handle. “I planned on going with my girlfriend, but things with her didn’t really work out,” Sirius shot him what he hoped was an apologetic look, “so if you dig Jimi Hendrix and you don’t have anything to do this weekend…” He held up too paper tickets between his thick fingers.

“Wow,” Sirius took the ticket being offered to him. “Yeah, he’s brilliant.”

“It should be a good show.” He shrugged, pulling a headband out of his back pocket and pushing it up into his curly hair as the fryer beside them pulled beads of sweat from beneath their skin.

“Thanks mate. I’d love to go.” He watched him shove his own ticket into his pocket and did the same. “Cheers.” He gave Sirius a half smile before turning away to attack the thin layer of dirt accumulating across the concrete floor with the fraying straw broom.

* * *

The rain was never good for business, but the lunch and dinner rush were more populous than it had been in a while. As Al swept and Sirius ran a threadbare cloth over the stove while they waited for customers, the bell overhead rang fourteen times within an hour and with it fourteen slips of bubblegum pink paper.

Before Sirius had thought to look at the clock, the sun outside had dropped below the horizon and the hands on the clock fell on nine. Al said his goodbyes to Sirius and Marlene (the waitress, he finally discovered after an embarrassingly long month of making polite conversation. What was the point of wearing a name tag if it was never the same two days in a row?) as he pushed his way through the swinging door that released the kitchen’s hold on him.

Sirius had a bottle of disinfected in one hand and a brutalized rag in the other, getting ready to wipe down the tables after their long day of battling against toddlers with access to syrup when the bell over the door rang softly behind him. “Hey buddy, we’re close,” he said without turning around.

“Sirius?” His head snapped up with his name and he spun around. Remus was smiling widely behind him, his feet planted on the doormat as Sirius tugged the hairnet off his head, embarrassed. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yeah, it’s erm-” He shrugged, watching him hook his thumbs in the belt loops at the front of his trousers. They stood there awkwardly for a moment before Sirius spoke up awkwardly. “Well I’m about to close up, but if you’re still hungry…” His voice trailed off to leave it open for interpretation as he ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“Sure,” Remus gave him a slight nod, sharing a smile before Sirius went to find Marlene to tell her he would be able to lock up.

She left out the back shortly after, thanking him as she slung her bag over her shoulder. He stopped in the bathroom, pulling his hair free of its messy bun and smoothing a hand over his shirt. He tugged at the knotted string of the apron around his waist until it was loose and rolled the sleeves of his white t-shirt up twice at the hem. He was worried that he smelled like fryer grease and sweat and that was just about the least sexy thing he could imagine. His hair was flat and his skin was shining from spending all day in a kitchen and there wasn’t much he could do about it. No matter how much water he splashed over his face, it still wouldn’t cut away the worried expression in his eyes.

Remus was standing where he left him a few minutes prior with his thumbs still in his belt loops, rocking back on his heels as he studied the smoke-stained walls. He looked up when Sirius came back into the room. “There’s a good burger place a few miles from here,” he suggested and Sirius shrugged, nodding before patting down his pockets to make sure he had his keys.

He locked the doors and stood with Remus out in the parking lot, the t-shirt draped across his chest providing absolutely no protecting against the biting cold. “I’m assuming you’d be more comfortable driving?” He grinned and his chapped lips split.

“Well, from what I’ve seen so far…” He smiled at him weakly and Sirius glanced back at his own car, his mouth falling into a tight seam.

“Shit anyway. Thinking about getting rid of it.” He followed Remus to his damn Volvo parked under a yellow streetlamp in the opposite direction from his dilapidated, rust bitten thing crouching in the dark by the dumpster between a pair of faded white lines.

“Oh yeah, what for?”

“I just need a change of scenery, you know? I sit in that thing every day. Maybe I'll get a van. One of those Volkswagen buses.” He shrugged as Remus unlocked the doors. “Or a motorbike. I’ve always wanted one because I knew my mum would hate it,” he laughed dryly, tugging at the door handle loosely.

“You don’t get on with your mum?”

“Nah,” he slid in the passenger side seat. “She’s a bit, you know, off her rocker.” Remus cranked the heat up after starting the engine.

“But she’s your mum.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew her.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” He reversed and pulled out onto the main road, the faint click of the turn signal bellowing through the silence.

“So do you do this a lot?” Sirius shifted in his seat. “Pick up random blokes and lock yourself in a car with them? I could be a serial killer or something and you’d never be the wiser.” He smiled at the side of Remus' face, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m taking a leap of faith,” Remus took his eyes off the road to look at him. “You wouldn’t be able to hold a steady job if you were avidly running from the law, I don’t think.”

“You’d be surprised.”

He glanced at him, the streetlights hanging over head casting bursts of unflattering light across his face. “Well now I’m a little less confident.” Sirius laughed as he changed lanes. “Did you call me a couple weeks ago, by the way?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re, erm, you know, picked up.” Sirius knocked his knees together as he fidgeted with the pack of cigarettes tucked away in his pocket.

“That was you? I thought so but you didn’t leave a name.”

“Yeah, sorry, she just seemed so angry or something. It was very unnerving.”

“Oh, she’s like that sometimes, it’s nothing personal.” He turned into the parking lot of an overly packed restaurant, cheerful promises of milkshakes and girls in roller-skates taking shape in florescent light bulbs.

There was something in the way Remus Lupin talked and the way he walked that sent a nervous tail curling between Sirius' legs. He wasn’t really sure what it was about him that made him so flustered. Couldn't give it a name or put his finger on it because there wasn't anything particularly special about the neutral colored sweater-vest Remus was sporting under a thick corduroy jacket, or the way his nose jutted and curved like it had been violently smashed. But there was something in his greaser-reminiscent haircut and those aspen eyes settled under heavy brows that had Sirius staring without his own permission.

There was a twenty-five minute wait to get a table so they shuffled around inside for a moment before retreating back out into the cold, away from all the sticky bodies trying to keep themselves warm and happy and fed. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and stuck one between his teeth, tipping the box towards Remus. He looked at him apprehensively, like there was some sort of internal battle that had erupted between his ears that he was trying to fight off before he nodded and fished one out of the box. Sirius struck a match, holding his hand up around the flame near Remus' face to protect it from the wind.

He was trying not to let the cold get to him, trying hard to play it cool as he leaned against the brick wall and pretended the tips of his ears weren’t as numb as his fingers. “I told Tonks I would stop smoking. She hates it. Venomously. She thinks it’s disgusting,” Remus coughed after a while. “She'll be able to smell it on me.”

Sirius studied the glowing amber at the ends of his fingers. “Tonks, is that your girlfriend's name?” He pulled at the cigarette mercilessly, looking down at his feet.

“Yeah – well, fiance. And it's her surname. Doesn't like her first name.” Sirius hummed and dropped the alleged sin from between his fingers, stomping it out with the toe of his boot.

It was a half an hour before they got a table and were able to sit down. Sirius was spending too much time in restaurants and the thick, putrid stench of grease was beginning to make him sick, but Remus was looking down at the menu excitedly and he thought he would just order a salad instead of making a fuss.

A waiter came and took their drink orders, water and iced tea, before he went to tend to other customers. The tables were pushed together painfully close to make room for their obviously expanding business, and the couple next to them was brushing their elbows as they all pretended it wasn’t happening. “Brilliant place you’ve brought me to, mate.” Sirius leaned forward and smiled at him mockingly, a foot tapping against him shin in response.

“I use to come here with my dad before it got this busy.” He lowered the menu he was holding up in front of his eyes before dropping his foot off of Sirius’ leg.

He felt the pressure between his ankles before he really figured out what it was or what it meant. He swallowed thickly, fighting to keep a neutral expression “So you’ve been here for a while then?”

“Where, America?” He shifted his foot between both of Sirius’ before slotting their knees together, “since I was seven. Had to struggle to keep my accent,” he laughed.

Sirius had his hands curled around the unopened menu sitting in front of him, his palms sweating, making the thick paper pucker under his skin. He wondered if people were looking at them, if they knew, if they could just __tell._ _ Maybe the couple less than a foot away from them could see it in his panicked expression or could smell the fear that was pulsing off of him in hot waves. “Maybe I should – “ His voice cracked miserably and he dropped his eyes to the checkered tablecloth hanging off its plywood frame, keeping their locked knees hidden from the rest of the world. “Maybe I should go. I can’t.” He shook his head and stood up, his chair clattering behind him clumsily as his face coloured.

It was darker than he remembered it being when he got outside, the moon full and heavy in a starless sky. Remus’ car was waiting for him in the overflow lot in the back, but the sidewalk was dragging him towards it and he complied without a fight. He had taken three steps towards the exit before there was a hand on his shoulder, stopping him silently. Remus was standing behind him, always seeming to be there when he looked. “Sorry,” he started, ducking his head. “I just don’t think we should – “

“Don’t think we should what?” Sirius brow pitched and he blinked at him slowly.

“Well in there I thought…” He looked back at the door, the light hanging above it gathering groups of people like moths. Remus was looking at him with the moon sitting on the crown of his head, its blue light pooling in the curve of his cheekbones and the dip of his chin. He was waiting for the answer Sirius didn’t know the question to, his face sober, unreadable. “I just thought,” Sirius tried again. “I don’t know.”

“Say it.” Sirius shook his head, the shuffle of the soles of his shoes against the concrete loud in his ears as he moved towards him. He was close enough for Sirius to smell sandalwood on his skin and see the flecks of cinnamon smeared across his face in vivid detail. His eyes fell on Remus’ mouth because it was right there, so close. Remus was searching his face, watching his grey eyes flick to his own, to his mouth then back again. “Go on then.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

  


Sirius remembered how hot Remus' mouth was against his and he remembered the rough scrape of fingers along his spine and he remembered lines and lines of coke but after that everything was so heavy and buzzing, it didn't make much sense. He was there on his fold out couch with Remus' arms like anchors around his waist, looking around at his dimly lit apartment with vision that was slowly solidifying in the early morning light.  
Everything clicked for a second. His chest was warm and humming and the only word that made sense was 'home' even though he knew it was ridiculous. Maybe it was just the aftershock. Just a junkie ridding out the last wave of a high before they needed their fix, but he felt good he really did.  
Remus was stirring, his hair tickling the underside of Sirius' chin as he lifted his head and smiled at him, drunk with sleep. "Hey," Sirius smirked, tiring to flatten out the tawny mess of hair in front of him.  
  
"Hey," he pushed himself up and crossing his legs underneath himself, shifting the sheet around him. "What time do you have work?" he asked with a yawn.  
  
"Too soon, I'd reckon. Coffee?" He forced a hand through his hair and found his pants on the floor beside him.  
  
"Please. And the toilet is..?" Sirius nodded to the door to their left and stood up.  
  
The coffee was done after a few minutes, the trickle of hot liquid filling the coffee pot triggering him like a life long war veteran. It wasn't until Remus was back out with combed hair and legs sheathed in his trousers from the night before and there were two mugs sitting on the counter did Sirius realize he didn't have any sugar. "I could offer you some water instead," He wrapped a hand around the faucet like an offering. Remus chuckled and nodded and Sirius set a mug full of lukewarm tap water down in front of him, hating himself.  
  
"So do you get off work late every night?"  
  
"Usually. I mean, I have no where else to be, so I guess it's not so bad," he wrapped his hands around his brown mug, watching the water inside dance for him in rings. "Today's my boss' daughter is getting married, or something, so he's closing at noon."

  


“Is that right? Maybe we could meet up then. Do something, or something.”

  


“Yeah?” He waited as a nodded was returned to him early.

  


“Yeah, it'll be a gas.”

  


“Wish I had something more to offer you than water and a pull out couch.”  
  
"Everything's perfect, love. Don't worry about it." Remus leaned towards him from the other side of the counter, his elbows resting against speckled linoleum as he smiled.  
  
Sirius returned it dumbly before clearing his throat. "Mind if I get dressed? The telly plays a few channels or – or you could leave if that's what your comfortable with."  
  
"Trying to get rid you me?" Remus stood up straight again with a smirk and a raised eyebrow as Sirius set his mug in the sink and went around to his half-pack suitcase.  
  
"No! Not at all. It's just, some people like to keep it casual, or whatever. I don't know the formalities." He busied himself with fishing another pair of jeans out of his bag, mainly to prove he had another to wear as Remus sat down on the edge of the less than reliable bed.  
  
"Well, is that what you want?"  
  
Sirius straighten up to look at him. "Well you're getting married," he answered softly.  
  
"I am."  
  
"To your fiance. To your female fiance."  
  
"To my female fiance."  
  
Sirius looked at him for a long moment with his lip between his teeth and jeans hanging from his clenched fist. "I really don't know what answer your looking for here." He snatched a half empty box of cigarettes off the top of the tv and stuck one between his teeth with vindicated frustration.  
  
"Just the truth, I suppose."  
  
"Well. Well I knew from the start that you were -- that you had a fiance," he kicked at his suitcase lightly, his smoke still unlit. He waited for an answer while he thought. While his brow furrowed and things started to connect and the colour returned to the knuckles wrapped around his fist as he let the jeans slip from his fingers. "Are you just marring her because you don't want people to think your queer?"  
  
"I love her," Remus answered quickly.  
  
Sirius shook his head. "You can't. Not really. Not after you came to my flat and – and fucked me. You can't actually be in love with her."  
  
"It's hard to explain."  
  
"I don't think it is." He pushed a hand over his tired face before tugging the fag behind his ear. "You're scared."  
  
"You don't know me," Remus stood up as Sirius stepped forward.  
  
"What are you scared of?" Sirius bent his head to meet Remus' eyes. "Is it your parents? Your friends? Society? Don't want a bunch of strangers to know you like cock so you have to put a ring on you finger – "  
  
"Stop." He felt the tight pull of fabric across his back as Remus wound his hands in the front of his shirt. "Stop before you say something – "  
  
"True?"  
  
Remus paused before laughing low and dark, a shadow falling across him as he let go of Sirius and smoothed his hands across the explosion of violent wrinkles over his chest. "You're such a kid. Living your pretend life with your pretend job and your pretend car --"  
  
"This isn't about me," Sirius stepped back.  
  
"It is though, it so is. Everything is, isn't it? I can tell, Sirius. I can read you so easily."  
  
"Then why are you here? Why did we even – " He tried so hard to keep his voice from breaking, to keep himself from being pushed back against the wall bust when he felt the sharp comb of exposed brick against the flare of his shoulder blades, he sighed deeply. "I didn't mean --"  
  
"Your hiding things too, Sirius. Who are you to judge? Come on, tell me one of your secrets."  
  
"One of my – Jesus, are you mad? You think being queer is your secret? What makes you think that isn't my secret too?"  
  
"You have more."  
  
"Everyone has secrets, is this a joke?"  
  
"What's this then?" He swooped down and snatched a thick green shirt out of Sirius' bag. "Potter?" he read the name tag stitched across the breast aloud."That's not you, so who's is it?"  
  
"You're fucking mad. I can't even believe what I'm hearing right now." He forced it out of Remus' hands carefully. "Who do you think you are, mate? Going through my shit like some sort of --"  
  
"Who do __you__ think you are? Prophesying my life like you have some sort of God given right."  
  
He paused to looks down at the shirt he was holding to his chest. "What the fuck, Remus. We don't even know each other, this is crazy," he smoothed a thumb over the name tag. "I don't care, honestly. I mean, you're getting married and I promise you I won't be in town for more than a few more weeks, so we'll just be mates. Mates that fuck." he tried for a smile but it didn't stick.

Remus eyed him for a minute long before nodding to the shirt again, the tension between them gone as quickly as it had come. "But really."  
  
Sirius pushed his bottom lip out with his teeth for a long moment before starting. "My friend James – well, friend doesn't really cut it. Brother, I think, in everything but blood," he smiled faintly to himself. "We moved to the states when we were eighteen because we thought a change of scenery would do us some good," he turned around and wrenched the window open, stilling down on the sill. "And we, erm. I don't know if I should be telling you this, but we served in Korea together."  
  
"Shit."  
  
"They needed soldiers and stupidly enough we thought it was a good cause. Very against communism, James was. I wear his dog tags but I took his shirt because, I don't know really," he hooked a possessive thumb around the chain tucked under his t-shirt. "We were, uh," he scoffed coldly, "we were there, you know, in the jungle and there was this heat like you wouldn't believe – bugs the size of your fist and everything – and we were doing everything they told us: ran every time they told us to run, shot every time they told us to shoot. But they were a bunch of kids like us and suddenly, sometime in August we're were out numbered because our officers under calculated their reinforcements.

James was the best there was, really. He had these nerves like steel. I wanted to cry the whole time, did more than not if I'm being honest, but he kept his head straight. Kept a picture of his girl under his helmet and the goal in sight the entire time. Look," he bent over to find a training manual in the bottom of his bag, flipping through it until a sweat stained picture fell out from between the pages. "Isn't she beautiful?" He handed it to Remus who took it by the corner and studied the smiling girl posing between the white boarders. "Just married. See, she's in her wedding gown," he pointed to the picture. "I'd gone with them to the court house on her eighteenth birthday so they could get married," he laughed fondly.

He sat and watched Remus' eyes scan over the picture again and again as his throat constricted with bitter memories that should have been sweet. "War is," he shook his head, the end of his sentence dying on his tongue. "I don't know if the good of it out weights the cost."  
  
He paused for a long time while Remus stood in front of him and worked his thumb nail between his teeth."What happened?"  
  
It took him a minute to start up again, swallowing deeply to settle his voice. "I was talking to him. He was right there, you know? And he was looking at me like he was worried for the first time in maybe forever," he kept his eyes lock on where they had fallen to Remus' bare feet in front of him. "We weren't even out in the open, I don't know how it happened," his voice broke and he coughed. "This bullet just came out of no where, cutting through the air so slowly, so lazily. I watched it slip right through his face and I couldn't even do anything about it," he pushed a hand over his mouth. "It took so long. I don't know if he drown or if he bleed out but it was everywhere. I can still feel it sometimes, just burning me. I couldn't leave him so he just laid there against my chest with his fists balled in my shirt and bled for an eternity," he took the cigarette out front behind his ear and rolled it between his fingers.  
"I left after that. I know they could hunt me down and kill me at anytime but I couldn't stay. I'm such a coward, I know, but I couldn't sleep for months -- maybe years afterward. Every time I closed my eyes, there he was there, starring up at me. He still is sometimes, if I go to bed sober enough." He chanced a look up at Remus'. "Something's really trigger it, you know? Certain sounds, certain smells will just send my guts hurling out on the floor at my feet," he stood up slowly on liquid knees to grab the book of matches off the television set and light his cigarette. He pulled air in through his teeth with a sharp hiss and watched Remus suck his lip thoughtfully.  
  
"I'm --"  
  
Sirius shook his head quickly. "I know," he flicked ashes out the open window behind him. "Your not going to go and tell the government on me now, are you?" He forced a laugh and blew smoke out the side of his mouth, watching Remus shake him head somberly.

* * *

Remus drove Sirius into work since his car was still where he had left it the night before, and met him outside the front door of the diner at noon like he had promised with a box of donuts in one hand, the other tucked away in his pocket. “Took the day off,” he explained when Sirius asked him about his job.

Mick Jagger was howling on the radio and the air outside was sweet and Sirius really hoped Remus wasn't looking at him differently than he had been since that morning.

“It wasn't all bad,” he spoke up when the thoughts in his head got to be too much to contain. “We met these construction workers who wanted to learn English – I mean they knew enough to get by but they said something about wanting to become translators – so in exchange for lessons they took us on these crazy hikes through jungles and along rivers and everything. I've never seen anything like it, it was just enough to make me want to see everything, you know? I want to see the world.” He kept himself faced towards the blur of scenery outside his window.

  


“A van would be the perfect way to start then, I suppose?”

  


“You really understand me, Remus Lupin,” he shot back with a smile.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

  


Mitch Mitchell was right up there with John Bonham, Sirius decided at the start of the long drive back into town in the passenger seat of Al's car.

The speedometer behind the wheel read ten miles under the speed limit and Sirius knew it was because of the joint between Al’s teeth, but it felt like they were soaring, it really did. He didn’t know if he deserved a friend like Al who gave him acid soaked sugar cubes and fucking Jimi Hendrix tickets for fuck’s sake without asking for anything in return, but he was grateful. He was so fucking grateful, how was he ever going to repay him, he didn't think he'd ever be able to.

Al chattered on happily about guitars trapped in an inferno of fire and orgasmic riffs that you could “really feel in your soul, man,” while Sirius answered enthusiastically in his head, the fact that Al wasn’t able to read his thoughts mildly exhausting. It was a lucky thing that Al was so chatty when he was stoned – jumping from subject to subject – because Sirius knew he wouldn’t be able to guide a conversation and he liked having something to hold onto like the story behind the name of Al’s childhood cat. It felt very solid the name Roger, like it would be able to keep him from floating away, stupidly enough.

When Al flicked the end of his joint out the window, Sirius turned to watch the glowing amber skip along the road behind them before burning away to nothing in the blackness. Sirius suddenly realized that he was glad that it was as late at night as it was, the heavy veil of dark sky around him comforting in its unfathomable hugeness. The only thing he could manage though was: “Sky’s pretty big.”

There was nothing particularly difficult about being a passenger in a friendly stranger’s car (because that’s what they were really, just friendly strangers) unless the heat was up too high or the music was something that turned your stomach or if you were tripping hard on a fuck ton of LSD and the driver got lost, leaving you with the impossible task of reading the outdated map that was tucked away somewhere in the backseat.

The colored lines indicating roads were very wiggly, refusing to settle in one place despite the desperate narrowing and widening of Sirius’ eyes. He had the sudden realization that Al could absolutely despise him and his insurmountable thick-headedness, so he admitted to his inability with a meek, “I can’t focus.”

  


“Maybe we should stop and ask for directions?”

  


“Are you – is that what we should do?” Oh god, the thought of talking to other people made him nauseous.

  


“Shouldn’t we?”

  


“Suppose was have to.”

  


Al’s eyes were __red_ _ and Sirius’s pupils were __huge_ _ and he kept __twitching_ _ all over and everyone knew, they had to have known.

When Al pulled into a twenty-four hour gas station and parked in front of the little market stuck behind the fueling stations, Sirius focused on walking rather than his pounding heart and hey, maybe he wasn’t as bad as he thought he was but then he stumbled over the kerb so he focused extra hard on not letting the door hit him as they stepped inside.

Al was fine. Perfectly sober all of a sudden Sirius was sure because he spoke to the woman behind the counter very easily and naturally as Sirius stood a little too closely behind him, his arm jerking without him meaning it to.

He felt very useless as the woman marked out their rout on an up-to-date map with a ballpoint pen, so he turned away too busy himself with the colorful packaging all the sweets came in, the checkered floor under his feet a very intimidating thing he was trying hard not to look at.

The directions they were given took them on back roads that were carved out of the earth and then forgotten with the arrival of more impressive highways. It was something like three in the morning and Sirius’ eyes itched with sleep and stale excitement. They were quite now as their high slipped away and exhaustion reared its ugly head while they let the radio filled the dead air with the hypnotic thump of John Paul Jones’ bass.

After a while the diner presented itself through the thick haze that was coloured purple with early morning light. They parked in the lot in front of the diner and Al stretched out across the front seat while Sirius crawled into the one behind and rested his head against one door while his bare feet fell flat against the opposing window, the glass fogging up around his toes. Al was asleep before Sirius had time to close his eyes. All he could think about was working in a few hours and that fought off sleep with vigorous agility even thought he was so tired, he knew he would hardly be able to keep his eyes one once the diner opened its doors.

Sleep found him without him noticing and he was awakened by the sharp sting of sunlight spilling directly over his face. The watch around his wrist told him he had twenty minutes to spare, so he stepped outside as quietly as he could to smoke and pull his unwashed hair up into a bun and away from his face. The cold air outside did wonders for his headache but nothing for his drooping eyelids. He paced along a crack in the blacktop, lifting his head at the dying clunk of a car as it pulled into the parking lot. It was Marlene in a cream coloured Volkswagen Beetle with a look on her face that mirrored Sirius’ expression exactly, he was sure.

She pulled in a few spots down from Al's van and once she killed the engine, the sound of early morning silence rung in his ears. She had on this black skirt that fell to the middle of her thighs and knee high socks with loafers that complimented her long legs. “You must be cold” Sirius smiled weakly as she approached. She gave him a half-nod half-shrug as she reached around to the bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out her apron that fell just shy of the hem of her skirt when she tied it around her waist.

  


“You look exhausted,” she pointed out as she stopped to stand next to him.

  


“Rock n' Roll never sleeps and neither do I,” he smiled again, his exhaustion stifling his charm. He looked up into her prettily painted face. She had thick, dark makeup flared across her eyelids in dramatic points and Sirius faintly marveled at her diligence so early in the morning.

  


“I'm surprised you're here before opening.”

  


“Must be the second coming of Christ.” She laughed faintly and he knew she was just being polite. He dropped his fag and pressed the toe of his boot down into it.

  


“Sirius,” She started abruptly after a moment of silence, shuffling forward a bit. “I was wondering if you'd like to get dinner with me sometime.”

  


“Dinner? Aren't you sick of restaurants?” He smiled with a laugh, his gut pulling with regret the moment he watched her deflate. “No, that wasn't a no, just a stupid joke. Here, uh,” he patted down his pockets in search of a pen, coming up short. “If you have some paper I can give you my number.”

* * *

Being with Remus was easy, that wasn't a hard conclusion for Sirius to come to. Or, there was the fabricated illusion of comfort that Sirius hadn’t had the will to question, rather. They hadn’t been cross with each other since Remus had found James’ army jacket and maybe that was a good thing, but Sirius couldn’t decide. They hadn’t talked about it again either, which may have been unhealthy but Sirius couldn’t remember a healthy moment he’s had with Remus since they met, so he was trying not to dwell. He had lead a rather unhealthy life since his birth, so why change now?

He was with him in a record store a few blocks from his building, the air between them void of anything but the faint, thrilling hum of attraction.

He may not have looked it, but Remus was a worthy adversary when it came to discussing music. His focus wasn't centered on Benny Goodman despite what his vast collection of sweater vests and bow ties may have suggested.

Sirius had a crisp copy of the Beatles’ Revolver in his hands as Remus flipped through the albums on the shelf beside him. He slid his hand over it's plastic wrapping, trying to convince himself that it was all he could afford even though the psychedelic cover of Odessey and Oracle was calling to him like it knew he could easily fall for it's allure.

He did in fact, fall for its seductive packaging, and several other albums’ charm along with it. Because who needs lights and heat when you have music?

Remus was very good at thinking up things for he and Sirius to do, which was a massive weight off Sirius’ shoulders because if it were up to him, they’d be sitting around somewhere with Janis Joplin on the record player downing out the need for conversation. Going to the record store, for example, was Remus’ idea; a splendid idea that really told a lot about him. Even though he skipped over Pink Floyd and snatched up Elvis, he had a lot to say about each album he passed, like what went on during recording sessions that produced the album that was released instead of the perfectly fine version that was finished before the final draft but never made the cut.

Once everything was paid for and they left the shop, Sirius invited him back to his place so they could listen to their purchases. He bit back a smile when Remus nodded enthusiastically as they climbed into his car.

On the way back to his flat, Sirius relived the Jimi Hendrix concert for Remus in vivid detail, insisting that he had to go see him because a guy like him really did only come around once.

  


“Sounds brilliant.” Remus agreed as Sirius unlocked the door and stepped inside.

  


“You don’t even know, man.” Sirius toed off his boots and immediately padded over to his player, slapping on the Zombies and waiting for it to start up in anticipation. “I’m thinking about quitting,” he started.

  


“Smoking?”

  


Sirius laughed. “No. My job.”

  


“Yeah?”

  


“Yeah. It’s just so much; I barely have time to sleep. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up. Now I know why the position was up for grabs to begin with.”

  


“What are you thinking of doing instead?”

  


“Don’t know why I can’t just live in the woods, honestly.” He shot him a smile over his shoulder as he set the cover down and scratched at the back of his neck. He went and sat down next to Remus on the couch, his feet tucked under himself as he listened intently to the beginning of the first song. “You know what would make this better?” he asked suddenly, jumping like he had an epiphany and standing up again when Remus hummed. He went around to his suit case to find a bag of pot and a pipe, holding it up in front of his face with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow.

  


“Oh.”

  


“What?” He let his hands fall slightly, his shoulders collapsing.

  


“Nothing, I’ve just never –”

  


“No way. Then we defiantly have to.” He laughed, his mood lighting again. He gave Remus a reassuring look when he shot him a nervous glance. “Don’t worry, duckie, I’ve got you.”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

  
Sirius watched Remus' eyelids grow heavy and his face stretch into a smile as the room filled with smoke. “How do you feel?” Sirius chuckled as Remus let his head fall back against the couch. All he got in response was a nod and an eyebrow raise that made him laugh a little harder.

“What made you grow your hair out?” Remus reached over and carded a lazy hand through Sirius' thick hair.

“Got too lazy to cut it,” he shrugged and knocked their knees together. The side of the album on the record player ended just as a slender hand found it's way around the back of his neck. “One second,” he groaned as he stood up, the feeling of Remus' eyes heavy between his shoulder blades.

“I'm a little hungry.”

“Want to order in?” He pulled the album off the player and slipped it back into it's sleeve, not bothering to flip it over.

“You should cook for me,” he said, standing up and swaying slightly on his feet.

“Now?”

“Why not.”

“Don't really have anything to make. If you come down to the diner I'll cook you whatever you want.”

“Thought you were quitting.”

“Yeah.” He flipped through his entire record collection twice before realizing that he hadn't read any of the titles.

He pulled Bob Dylan out just because it was there and set the sleek black vinyl down on the turn table before throwing himself back down on the couch. He patted the cushion next to him as an invitation, hooking an arm around Remus’ chest when he sat down, pulling him into himself.

There was a moment when their chests rose in time with the melancholy voice spilling from Sirius' shit speakers. He had his hand pressed tightly over Remus' heart while his fingers thumped along to what should have been a kick drum. “I hope you don't fine me terribly boring, or something,” he mumbled, pressed his nose into shaggy fawn coloured hair.

“Not at all.” Remus lifted his chin, mirroring Sirius' faint smile.

Sirius leaned in and knocked their noses together, pressing their foreheads together until Remus' head was laying comfortably against the arm rest and he could feel the whisper of his mouth against his own. “I like having you around, you known,” Sirius stated, pulling away enough to look him in the eyes.

“That’s rather convenient since I like being around so much,” he twisted his finger in the front of Sirius' shirt lightly, urging him back down until their mouths locked and Remus' tongue found Sirius' moister-slick bottom lip with a sharp spark.

The side of the album ended sooner than it ever had before, but Sirius' heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he didn't notice until he moved his mouth to the hallow of Remus' neck. The moment the smack of lips stopped, the circular crackled of the end of the record pulled his attention back to the lack of music, but he was already stripped from the waist up and the thought of exposing his heat soaked skin to the stagnant air above them really wasn't worth it.

He was working a bruise into the side of Remus' neck, pressing the flat of his tongue against the flaring red skin when he felt the solid pressure of hands on his chest. He bit down again, just out of spite, before lifting his head. “Come on, not so brutal.”

“Because that skirt of yours – “

“Could we please not do this now,” Remus rolled his head across the arm rest. “Please, come on,” he reached up to hold Sirius' face and he knew that it was because Remus thought that he would be offended. He was wrong though because he was mostly just turned off. Barely offended at all. “Come down here and kiss me.” He watched Remus flash him a smirk as he sat up so his back was resting against the incline of Remus' thighs. “God, don't do this,” he bucked his hips sharply.

“It's not my fault! You put the thought of vaginas into my head and now I'm thinking about my mum,” he groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face.

* * *

“I had a really nice time, Sirius.”

His eyes settled somewhere in the air in front of him before they dropped down to Marlene's pretty face. He smiled at her as she brushed her hand against his.

He had taken her to some sit down Italian place that had vineyards painted on the walls and plastic covered menus. He ordered spaghetti because he thought he remembered hearing somewhere that you shouldn't order spaghetti on a first date.

It was weird to think about: first date. Weird and mildly unnerving because he was out with a girl just to get back at the bloke he was fucking, whom he had never been on a single date with. He didn't even know what to call their relationship. Fuck buddies might have been the appropriate term even though it was degrading and he was almost completely certain you shouldn't have such a … tie with a buddy you're fucking.

Being there across the table from her made his stomach squirm, and not in the pleasant little way it had when Remus curled up on his chest when they sat down and watched __2001 a Space Odyssey_ _ in it's entirety at four in the morning. He was looking at her across the table and thinking about all the time she must have spent putting on that eyeliner and flipping her hair up at the ends like it did, and how he had never done something so low as take a smitten girl out with nothing but the intention of revenge.

He tired to keep his face pleasant though, asking her about her family and whether she thought John was cuter that Paul, anything to keep her talking because he didn't trust his own voice.

They were walking because for some reason Sirius thought it would be romantic and spontaneous but in reality it was just cold and a little miserable. “You must be freezing.” He said to her. She was wearing a dress he thought he remembered seeing on Pattie Boyd in a magazine, with stockings that had seams running up the backs of her legs. Very sexy without even meaning to.

“Oh no, I'm fine,” he didn’t believe her, of course, so he shrugged off his jacket like the proper gentleman he was, and slung it over her shoulders. She thanked him as their pace slowed to a crawl and she stole glaces at him that she thought he didn't catch.

It was a couple blocks until they got back to Marlene's house. At the door she fumbled with her keys and looked up at him through thick eyelashes. He should have kissed her. He should have taken her inside and woke up with her the next morning, but he all but ran off her front lawn. He was eighty-five percent sure he was polite about it, but kissing her... he couldn't. What if he was hit buy a car on the way home and she was the last person he kissed? She didn't deserve that, he didn't even want to think about what he deserved but if he was hypothetically being hit by a car, he'd like to think that he'd at least have the memory of kissing Remus to get him through the long wait before the ambulance showed up.

He was walking down the street, away from Marlene's house but also away from his own. He was mainly just looking for a pay phone, and maybe some change so he could use it.

The few blocks he had to walk before he came across a pay phone, he found two quarters, a dime and a teddy bear without a head. He took the change and stuck it on the machine, setting the bear on top of the phone. He pressed Remus' number into the dial and it rang four times before there was a voice on the other end. “Remus?”

“Sirius?”

“Yeah mate hi. What're you up to right now?”

“Having dinner with Tonks,” he hissed into the receiver.

“Oh, well... you up for a quick shag? I can swing by your place – ”

“You're mental.”

“No,” he shook his head against the fist he was resting it on, “just horny.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end and he could practically hear the sound of Remus chewing at his thumb nail before there was an answer. “Backyard. Twenty minutes.”

* * *

Sirius waited for him next to his tool shed in his backyard. He was picking his nails and shuffling his feet and watching the silhouettes in the window embrace and kiss before one of them turned away and the light in the room was turned out. There was the subtle squeak of door hedges and the muffled _click_ of it gently being closed before Sirius recognized the careful press of feet into grass.

 

“Hey,” he smiled into the darkness when he was close enough that he could see the whites of Remus' eyes.

 

“I don't know why I'm here,” he grumbled as Sirius wound his arms around his waist.

 

“Should I leave then?” He took the hum being pressed into his neck as a good sign and let his hands fall to Remus' bum, yanking their hips flush. Remus was licking a bruise into his neck as Sirius pulled the hem of his shirt from his jeans and undid his zip. He shoved his hand into the front of Remus' trousers with a heavy breath. “Wait,” he pulled back. “Are those – are you wearing panties?” He laughed, snorting through his nose.

 

He trailed his fingers across the delicate lace that was trapped under the coarse denim of his jeans. “Tonks, she... she thought it would be sexy.”

 

Sirius let out a breathy laugh, tugging Remus forward when he tried to step away. “I want to see them,” he leaned in and nipped at his ear, his voice heavy and hoarse as he shoved Remus' jeans off his hips. There was the pressure of hot hands of Sirius' chest as Remus stepped back. He wished he could have seen his face as Remus pulled his jeans down to his knees. He was probably blushing, brilliant and red, his gaze downcast as Sirius' eyes settled on his hardening cock trapped behind taught pink lace. “Come on duckie, give us a turn,” he couldn't stop smiling devilishly as Remus shuffled his feet, lifting the hem of his shirt as he turned. Sirius barked out a laugh, smacking Remus' bum. “You're going to have to nick a few pairs of those to model for me in better lighting.”

“I didn't know you're such a kinky bastard,” Remus shot back, letting his shirt fall back down.

 

“You're the one in lacy pink panties, mate. Hate to break it to you,” Remus stepped back up to him and Sirius knew he only kissed him as deeply as he did to shut him up.

Sirius had a thigh between Remus' legs as they fucked up into each other like a bunch of teenagers. Remus was moaning deep in his throat, his hands fisted in Sirius' hair. Sirius broke the kiss, pressing the sides of their faces together as they breathed heavily. “What do you want me to do?”

 

“Whatever, anything. Everything. I'm so close,” Remus panted.

 

Sirius curled his fingers around the base of Remus' cock, ignoring his angry grunts and turning him around so he was leaning against the side of the shed. He dropped to his knees, thumbs tucked into the wings of Remus' hips before he leaned in to nose along his inner thigh, licking a strip up Remus' length, his tongue catching on the lace. Remus bit his lip, dropping his head back against the plywood wall while Sirius worked a wet patch into his panties.

There were hands in his hair and salt on his tongue as he pulled at himself through his trousers. Remus was whimpering above him, his hips jerking as Sirius' pressed the back of his throat against his swollen head. “Sirius,” he hissed, his legs shaking and the muscles in his abdomen quivering as Sirius slipped a hand behind him, finding his prorate in a quick sweep. He cried out through his teeth as he fell forward, curling over Sirius as he licked the come off his chin. He fell down to his knees, knocking Sirius' hands away and pumping his fist until his bare thighs were streaked in sticky webs.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

April was cold. The flowers were desperately trying to bloom, peaking their heads up through frost bitten soil only to fold over in the cold of the night. Sirius wasn't feeling much different then they were. 

Despite his promise to quit his job a month ago, he was still waking up every morning and dragging his arse to the diner. His check engine light was on in his car and he was still dating Marlene; he and Remus were stuck in the same place they had been two months ago and the cold really wasn't helping his rock bottom plateau.

Remus’ wedding day was creeping closer at the same rate Sirius’ self-confidence was dropping. He remembered when he was a spunky teenager back in school: immortal and mischievous, by James’ side everyday just like it should’ve been. He use to fuck girls and pull pranks and smoke cigarettes for recreational purposes instead of self destructive ones. Now he was dating a girl who wanted him to meet her parents and he hadn’t so much as laid of finger on her other than to kiss her goodnight and hold her hand when she initiated it. Maybe he would fuck her, just to prove he wasn’t too queer to get it up for a pair of tits. If Remus could, he would sure as hell manage it.

As much as he wished he didn’t feel so strongly for Remus, he did and the occasional warmth of Remus pressed against him kept him going, as dumb as it may have seemed.

Even though his presence was rare and conditional, he was in his dreams every night and it only made his desperation worse.

With blurry eyes and knees that shook from lack of sleep, he walked into the kitchen and picked up the phone next to the sink and pressed the receiver to his tired face. Remus answered on the third ring, sounding more alert than anyone should at two in the morning. “I love you,” Sirius heard the stupid words leaving his own mouth before he had time to filter them.

There was silence on the other end for a long time and Sirius’ heart was beating on his tongue. “I’m getting married.”

 

“And you won’t let me forget it either will you?”

 

There was a rustle on the other end like he was shifting his phone to the other ear. “She’s out of town,” he sighed, “And you know, this bed is awful lonely with just me it in.”

 

* * *

 

Sirius rung Remus’ doorbell twenty-five minutes after hanging up the phone. The front pocket of his jacket was fat with a bag of pot and his hair was a mess. He wished Remus had seen him before the permanent stubble and the unforgiving dark circles. He wished he could see the handsome, charming man Sirius was before the war. But the face Remus opened the door to was crestfallen, greying at the temples. Sad. Maybe if Remus cared enough to squint, he’d be able to see the ghost of the eighteen year old Sirius use to be.

Remus shuffled him inside; glancing around outside the door in the dark like Sirius some sort of dirty little secret. Which he supposed he was, but he didn’t like being reminded of it none the less. “You stink,” he said as he closed the door, hooking a hand around the back of Sirius’ neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

 

Sirius pulled his lips behind his teeth when they broke apart. “I brought pot.”

 

“Wonderful,” Remus smirked, eying Sirius’ pocket. “Let’s go out back then.”

 

They sat in the grass with their legs tucked underneath themselves. Remus was still wearing his red flannel pajama bottoms with a grey jumper pulled over his chest while Sirius was still wearing the same pair of jeans he had tugged on three days ago. He rolled a joint, not really able to feel his fingers in the cold. Remus was braiding long blades of grass together in anticipation, his lips almost blue and his ears stained red, matching the flare at the end of his nose. “I meant it you know,” Sirius glanced at him, the paper in his hand crunching softly.

 

“I know you did,” he lifted his chin and looked up at the sky. It was too cloudy to see any stars, but every once in a while the moon would show it's pale face between breaks in the hazy vial. “And I know you know I can't give you the answer you want.”

 

“I don't want an answer,” his words muffled when he stuck the joint between his teeth and struck a match against it's book.

 

“And if I said it back, would anything change? Were you hoping that if you told me you loved me that I’d leave Tonks and run away with you?

 

“I didn't have any alternative motives, Remus. I just needed to say it.” He didn't get an answer.

 

They were killing the joint pretty fast and the wet ground was soaking the seat of Sirius' trousers as they sat in silence. He needed conversation, but he couldn't think of anything to say. “So there's going to be this music festival in August,” he started suddenly, finishing off the joint and flicking it into the grass in front of them. “How'd you like to go with me?”

 

“My wedding's in August.”

 

“Can you shut up about your wedding for a minute, Christ. Just spend a few days with me before we have to cut our ties. Tell her it's your bachelor party or something.”

 

“Hell of a bachelor party,” he said to himself. “That's still so far from now, why are you worrying about it now?”

 

“I'm just very aware that after August, I’ll never be able to see you again.” Remus didn't answer and Sirius didn't mind because they both knew it was true, the tension between them was enough that they didn't need words. They had never talked about it, but marriage was a holy institution. Fucking around with a married man was much worse than fucking around with someone who was engaged, which was bizarre because nothing really changed except for rings and a signed document.

 

* * *

 

Remus had a cat, which he should have guessed from all the books and wing-back chairs that lined the walls of his house. It still same as a surprise when the fluffy grey thing jumped up on the bed, not hesitating to rub it’s face all over Sirius’ bare chest. “Jeremy, come on,” Remus sat up from his place between Sirius’ legs, sighing before lifting Jeremy up by his chest and setting him outside in the hall, closing the door behind him.

Sirius had a pillow in his lap as he watched Remus walk back over to the bed because for some reason he was embarrassed that his cat had seen him all stiff and exposed.

The lamp on the bedside table was on, the scarf thrown over the shade casting a pink-purple-blue glow around the room. Remus was crawling towards him with a smile and Sirius pulled it off of him with a kiss. His hands fit perfectly at the base of Remus’ head, the fine hairs there soft against the pads of his fingers. He never thought his hands had a place before they were holding the back of Remus’ neck. He pulled him down on top of him, their chests connecting with a smack. He was warm right down to his core. He couldn’t remember a burn like that other than the times where Remus’ skin was touching his.

Remus was shivering above him, mouth slack with anticipation, hands shaking around Sirius’ face. He pulled back for a minute, sitting up and lowering himself back down onto Sirius’ lap. He watched Remus’ brows furrow and his bottom lip curl back between his teeth before falling forward so his head was bowed and his arms were holding him upright from where they were rooted on Sirius’ sides.

He was starting to sweat; a barely-there sheen of clean salt that shown in the soft light. Sirius reached up to thumb across the curve of his arm, watching his hair fall around his face as he bounced himself up and down. He wanted to say something: tell him just how beautiful he was or how much he wanted them to stay like that forever, but he knew his words wouldn’t do the moment justice because Remus was rolling his hips and Sirius’ head was swimming in something hot and thick and he couldn’t really think.

Sirius had his hands slotted in the bends of Remus' arms, his eyes on his face. Remus was mumbling something, his words slurring together, his voice hitching every time his arse fell flush against Sirius' hips.

He heard the cat scratching at the door and the wind blowing outside over the heavy pants and the rhythmic slap of skin. He didn't know why he was so disconnected. The warmth in his belly felt like it belonged to someone else.

He pulled Remus down and flipped them over, sinking his teeth into the meat of his shoulder. Remus yelped before Sirius felt his legs come up around his wait.

It wasn't a minute before Remus' hips came up off the mattress and his head rolled and sticky white strings were webbed between their bodies. Sirius fell forward when Remus clenched around him, his elbows falling above each of Remus' shoulders, their foreheads knocking together. “You really are a great fuck.”

 

Maybe that wasn't a 'I love you too', but he'd take it.

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

Sirius woke up before he realized he had even fallen asleep. Remus was wrapped around his side and for a second he felt very domestic. His legs were tangled in silk sheets and the moment he remembered they weren’t his, he wanted to get out of them, but he couldn’t wake up Remus because he looked so peaceful, snoring lightly on his chest, the early morning light brightening the freckled scattered across his nose. He took a chance and touched his cheek with the back of his hand, watching his eyelids flutter for a moment before he tightened his grip around Sirius’ waist.

“Fuck,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his face like it would settle the tightness in his chest.

Remus woke up then with a yawn and a fist rubbing over his eyes. He smiled up at Sirius sleepily, pressing a kiss into his shoulder before throwing his legs over the side of the bed and finding something to wear off the scatter of clothing on the floor. “How about some breakfast?”

 

* * *

 

Remus set a glass of orange juice down in front of him while bacon sizzled in a skillet on the stove. Sirius turned to watch him strand by the fire, wearing nothing but Sirius’ grey pants from the night before. He was covered in freckles from head to toe: dark and bold, light and peppery. Sirius wanted to touch them all; each one with the tip of his finger, his nose, his tongue. He knew he’d never have time but he had that moment, so he stood up, his hands finding the slender curve of Remus’ back before traveling around to his chest. He had the side of his face pressed against the back of Remus’ neck, leaning into the way he tripped his head back and hooked his hands around Sirius’ forearms.

He turned around in his arms so their faces pressed together and they could lean into an easy kiss. Sirius stepped him over a bit so his wasn’t hanging over the open flame before moving into him, holding his face with both of his hands, lifting his chin up and knocking their noses together. “I should go soon,” he whispered, the closeness demanding it.

 

Sirius watched him swallow deeply and turn his head to look back over at the stove. “But the bacon.”

 

“Well, yeah. Of course,” he bit back a smile as he let go a Remus so he could pile the meat onto a plate with a fork.

 

“I have toast too, if you want. Or – or I could make pancakes?”

 

Sirius laughed lightly, “No don’t worry, I mean, I haven’t eaten this much bacon in one sitting in my entire life. It’ll be an experience.”

 

The telly sitting on the counter was on and the weather man on the screen was giving warnings of major storms that afternoon. It was hard to believe since the morning was so calm and sunny. “When does Tonks get back?” Her name tasted weird on his tongue.

 

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he said, sitting down at the table next to him. “Why?”

 

“No reason. I just don’t have any plans for today so if you wanted to do something.”

 

* * *

 

The streets of Remus’ neighbourhood were lined with cookie-cutter house, the sidewalks decorated with strollers and designer dogs. He didn’t expect it from Remus but he figured it was his fiancée’s idea instead of his own.

Once they turned out onto the main road, it was easier to breathe. There was less pressure out in the normal world somehow. “Where’re you taking me?” Remus asked from the passenger seat beside him.

“I don’t know, I guess we’ll figure it out once we’re there.”

Something that sounded like Steppenwolf was playing on the radio when they turned onto the freeway and Sirius’ car shook until the pressure of the high speeds. They were traveling south. Sirius had his eye set on somewhere near the border of North Carolina, but if the feeling was right, he would stop short before they crossed over.

He could hear Remus talking, but he wasn’t sure what he was saying. He was focusing on the sound of his voice rather than the words, but then a questioned was asked and then his shoulder was knocked by Remus’ bony elbow. “What?” he blinked at him.

 

Remus laughed, understandingly Sirius hoped, and shook his head to dismiss it. “You’re somewhere else, aren't you?”

 

Sirius returned his laugh. “I guess I am.”

 

It was hours before Sirius pulled off the high way. He managed to find a tangle of dirt roads with walls of corn and pastures of cows lining either side. The clouds were hanging low, thick and dark like the weather man had promised. The rain was always very cleansing though, so he didn't mind when a few fat drops of water hit his windshield.

He stopped when the road ended, pulling over close to a solid cluster of chest-high reeds and parked. He got out, he could hear the rush of waves but he couldn't see the water over the overgrowth. He went to stand by Remus’ door as it opened, watching him look around at the lack of human cultivation. He said something about it being beautiful, wrapping a scarf tight around his neck before setting his hands in his pockets.

Sirius went to look for a way to get to the water, hoping for a patch of sand to stand on. There weren't any paths stamped into the underbrush, so he stepped over a thin patch of weeds, turning to make sure Remus was following.

On the other side, there was nothing but water, rushing and green and massive. The curve of the earth was prominent, the contrast of green sea and grey sky something out of a painting. It was raining a little harder, the bay in front of them dancing with rings. The shoulders of Sirius’ jacket were darkening and when he looked, Remus’ were stained the same way. “Come on Remus, dance with me,” Sirius sung, tackling him hard enough to nearly knock him off his feet. Sirius had his face buried in his neck as Remus threw his head back with a laugh, his hands coming up to hold the arms that were locked around his waist.

The rain was picking up, pounding down and soaking straight through their jackets and flattening their hair against their heads as they shuffled across the beach on some sort of bizarre waltz. In the distance, thunder began to roll before lightening cracked with a flash of blue. Remus jumped, stilling his feet. “What?” Sirius let him go, turning to face the water. “Are you afraid of a little lightening?”

 

“It just looked pretty close.”

 

Sirius stopped to listen to the storm. “No, see, you can tell how far away the lightening is by how long there is in between each clap of thunder.”

 

“I think you're making that up,” Remus laughed, his eyes still on the horizon where he thought he had seen the lightening strike the water.

They stood there silently, completely soaked through to the bone now. Their hands were brushing at their sides, and Sirius hooked his index finger loosely around Remus' thumb.

When blue light flashed beside them, they both jumped, screaming rather girlishly as fire ignited amongst dead grass and sand turned to glass in the lightning’s wake. The flames were smothered almost immediately by the sheets of rain barreling down, but Sirius jumped on Remus, pulling him into his chest and covering him with his jacket. “I'll save you Remus,” he holler, lifting Remus' skinny frame easily, and running back to the car.

 

“Oh god Remus,” He unlocked the car and threw him in the back, “are you hurt?!” He pawed at him in mocking desperation as he crawled in a straddled his middle, trying not to laugh when Remus started to smile. “Oh Christ, it hit you didn't it? It's a miracle you lived! Stay with me Remus! I need you! Don't go into the light!”

 

Once Remus started to laugh, Sirius lost it, his soaking wet hair felling over his face and dripping on Remus'. “You're beautiful when you laugh,” Remus let his laugh fall into a meek smile, his fingers reaching up to brush along Sirius' jaw.

 

Sirius' face fell as he blinked down at him slowly. “You're always beautiful.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Sirius reached through to the front seat to stick the key in the ignition and flip the radio on, his other hand rooted on Remus' chest for support. He sat back on his heels, pulling off his soaking shirt. “I've never had car sex before,” Remus mumbled, studying the movement of Sirius' ribs under his skin as he twisted his shirt off over his head and threw it on the floor.

Sirius barked out a laugh, cracking the window open behind him. “I could see that,” he grinned, dropping forward so his arms stood rigidly on either side of Remus' head. “I always did peg you as a 'missionary style only' sort of fellow,” he ducked his head to kiss him.

The rain was pounding down on Sirius' car, painting moving shadows across Remus' skin while the bass line from the song pouring out of the radio pulsed the seats to life as Sirius fucked himself down onto Remus, minding the distance between the roof and his head. Remus was crying below him, his fingers setting bruises into Sirius' sides. Sirius was almost smiling as he studied Remus' face, watching it fold and contort and his lip pull back between his teeth. Sirius let his hand trail up to Remus' neck, feeling the impossibly soft skin there before pressing his thumb into Remus' throat until his hips bucked and Sirius' eyes rolled back into his head.

Once everything was over and Sirius collapsed limply on top of him, he lifted his chin to kiss along Remus' jaw and palm his sweat darkened hair off his face. “I love you,” Sirius grumbled, almost spitefully as he sat back and picked his shirt up off the floor, using it to wipe down both of their chests. “I'm dying for a smoke.” Sirius said to himself as he avoided Remus' half lidded gaze. He struggled to get his wet jeans onto his hips in the cramped space.

He stepped out of the car, looking up at the sky and letting the drops hit his face. At that angel, the lines of moister falling from the sky tunneled, making the grey expanse above him seem to stretch on into eternity. The rain had lessened to a dull roar and it cooled his burning skin. Beside him the car rocked as Remus fought to get dressed while Sirius lit a cigarette.

Remus stepped out of the car halfway through Sirius' smoke, his hair slicked back and his shirt stuck to his concave belly. “Mind if I have one of those?” Remus asked, leaning against the car. Sirius handed it to him through fat drops of rain, along with a book of matches and a cutting glance out of the corner of his eye. “Have you been out here before?” Remus asked, watching Sirius shake his head. After a few minutes, with nothing but the rush of rain hitting the previously dirt road, Remus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do you keep saying it if you get so upset when I don't say it back.”

 

“Because.”

 

“Please be an adult about this, Sirius.”

 

“Because I need to say it,” he turned to face him, fighting not to stamp his foot, “and I need you to hear it because I don't think you've ever heard it from someone who really, _really_ meant it.”

 

“Sirius – ”

 

“I mean Remus, I don't even know what to do with myself, you know? The time I send away from you, I feel like the seconds are never going to end,” he stepped closer. “You know, I saw it when my mate James looked at his girl Lily. He looked at her like nothing else mattered and I never thought I'd ever be worthy enough to feel something even remotely close to that.” Sirius had his shoulder folded over so he forehead knocked into Remus' lightly, trying not to let the smile pulling at the other man's mouth get his hopes up. “I know how fucking pathetic it sounds, but in a few months, you're going to be gone.”

 

“We'll still be friends.”

 

Sirius stepped back with a sharp laugh, his hands flying up to lace behind his head. “Let's just go,” he stepped around Remus to get into the driver's seat, waiting the few moments it took for Remus to shuffle around outside before walking around to the passenger's side door before he turned the key in the ignition, listening to the engine turn over and over with wet pounding. He curse, punching the wheel before knotting his fists into his hair. “Okay,” he smoothed his hands over his head. “Okay this is fine, I'll just walk down to … where ever the fuck, and find some help. Just – just stay here, I'll be back.”

 

“Oh fuck,” Remus rolled his head as Sirius got out of the car before opening his own door.

 

“It's fine Remus, just wait here I'll go.”

 

“Don't be such a wanker,” Remus rolled his eyes at him, following in Sirius' trail as he headed down the road. “Sometimes I think its a marvel that you made it past puberty.” Sirius shot him a look over his shoulder, knowing damn well that it was just emphasizing his point. Remus just laughed before calling out again.“You're going to get fucking pneumonia, you know?”

 

* * *

 

What must have been seventeen miles up the road, they came across a little gas station with two pumps and a fruit stand with a sign that promised farm fresh tomatoes covered in a blue tarp. Inside, there was a middle aged man behind the counter and Remus smiled at him as the bell above the door announced their arrival. Sirius browsed the aisles of junk food while Remus tried to sweet talk to owner into giving them a ride back and jump starting their car.

Sirius could hear the man hesitantly agree, spitting his dip into a plastic bottle between words. Remus thanked him profusely, calling Sirius back over to the counter.

The car ride back in the cab of the stranger's pick up truck was cramped and weird and Sirius really hated country music but that seemed to be the only genre the driver knew. He was squished between the man whom he hadn't bother to learn the name of, and Remus and he could almost feel the sense of _right_ pouring off him in waves. He knew Remus thought he was bit a “stuck in his ways”, as he had put it, but hell, so was he. Sirius had never been good with words though, trying to express his emotions usually ended in a stuttering mess of curses.

It was kind of amazing how quickly they got back to his car since he and Remus had worked up such a sweat trying to hike up to that god-given gas station. When Sirius looked in his truck, he found jumper cables which he had no idea were lurking back there, and when he popped the bonnet, the man laughed at the state of his battery. “Haven't replaced this since the fifties, have you?” He mocked in his charming little drawling, flashing them the four black, mangled mess of teeth that were still clinging to his gums. “I might be able to give you a jump, but you're going to need a new battery. Yeah,” he hummed to himself, turning his head to spit, “You see all that white shit? Battery cancer,” He laughed again, whooping and coarse. “I might have what you need back at my shop.”

 

“You're really shit with car, aren't you?” Remus hummed once the cables were hooked up between the cars and they had climbed into Sirius' little dying thing. Sirius ignored him, turning the key and pressing the gas when the man motioned for him to do so.

 

The engine sputtered to life and through the wind shield, the man gave him a thumbs up, walking around the the window. “Now don't shut that off. Just follow me I'm sure it'll hold.” He patted the door and turned away.

The rain had almost stopped, Sirius hadn't even had time to notice in all the commotion. The road was muddy and riddled with pot holes that were almost invisible when they were filled with murky water like they were. The man drove like a manic, not bothering to slow down for them to catch up once they started to lag behind. Once they turned onto the paved road, it was easier though. Two lanes of miles and miles of empty, tree lined roads. It would have been a beautiful drive in different circumstances.

Once Sirius saw him pull into the gas station, he slowed, pulling off into the gravel that lined the shoulder of the road, killing the engine reluctantly and stepping out of the car. “I don't think I can afford a new battery,” Sirius told Remus as they got out of the car and stood by the pumps as the store owner chatted with a man who had seen him while driving down the road – a friend, it seemed by the way the conversation’s volume elevated with excitement – and stopped to chat.

 

“How much are you going to need?” Sirius shrugged. “I can spot you mate,” Remus gave his arm a quick rum and smiled at him fondly, taking a small step away when the store owner caught his eye. “Are you still cross?” He leaned in again when the man turned back to his friend.

 

Sirius sighed deeply, “I just care about you so much, you know.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And it kills me that I can't have you.”

 

“You've got me duckie.”

 

“No I mean, all of you, all the time,” Sirius shook his head, brushing it off and walking away to the front door of the store.

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

Sirius thought that he had out run all the rain once he left London, but it had been raining on and off for two weeks straight. Things were starting to look up for him as of the past few days though – well, at least in the automotive department. He had finally sold his car and traded it in for a sweet, yellow Volkswagen Bus. And he had quite his job, to boot. Of course by doing that he had to leave his flat, but luckily his entire life had fit into the back of his newly acquired van.

Being unemployed left him with a lot of time to fill, so he unscrewed the back seats in his van and moved them to press against the wall, leaving room for a mattress (which would be used strictly for sleeping, he promised) and his beat up little record machine. He hadn't told Remus that he had decided to give up his life and become a nomad yet. To be honest he was a little nervous about what he'd say: “You can't live out of a van Sirius, where are you going to shower?” Like he didn't know that already. But maybe he'd be into it, maybe he'd run away with him to California and live off the land out in Slab City. They'd play cards all day and drop more acid than they could believe. It'd be beautiful. But he was dreaming.

He did however, invite Marlene to check out the luxury he would be living in for the rest of the foreseeable future. Despite her mod aesthetic, she was surprisingly enthusiastic about his adopted hippie lifestyle. “You know where you should take this,” she said, running her hand over the wooden beads that hung between the front seat and the back “bedroom/music studio”. “There's going to be this music festival in Woodstock soon, we should definitely go!”

 

“Oh,” Sirius shifted on the mattress, crossing his legs underneath himself. “You know, I'm not really a big fan of music.”

 

“There's a costume made shelf for all your albums right in front of me,” she laughed.

 

“I'm a poser, I'm sorry to break it to you duckie.”

 

She laughed dryly. “You know, lately I've had the feeling you're hiding something from me.”

 

“What would I be hiding from you?” He crawled over, the whine of the mattress springs hiding the crack in his voice.

 

He went to kiss her but she turned her head so his mouth landed on her cheek. “I don't know, Sirius, you tell me.”

 

He thought that would be it with her, but two weeks later he met her parents and apparently they liked him so well that they invited him to the beach with them for a long weekend, and everyone knew what long weekends with a girl meant. They meant sex and long term, committed relationships. He wasn't up for it, he wasn't ready. And as they sat there on her couch as her parents ratted around the kitchen making desert, he turned to her and tucked a loose piece of her behind her ear. “Marlene,” she hummed, moving closer to him. “Can I tell you something?”

 

“Anything.”

 

“Well, aren't you a little curious as to why we haven’t...” he motioned with his hands as he thought of a child friendly way to say fucked. “Consummated our relationship?”

 

She bit at her lip for a moment. “I just figured you were a good boy.”

 

“Marlene I'm in love. And – and I'm not in love with you, I'm so sorry. You know, sometimes I wish so much that I was, because it'd be easier, you know? But this isn't true, you and me. I'm not being true to myself, and for once in my life I need to be.”

 

She moved away from him, her brow knitting and her eyes misting over, “What are you saying?”

 

“I'm gay, Marlene.”

 

He didn't expect her to scream. He didn't expect her father to come running into the room and he certainly didn't expect a frying pan to come hurtling at his spin. He did expect the yelling and the crying and the offensive slurs, however. He thought he was in the middle of a revolution. He thought it was a time for change and love and acceptance, but some things were just taboo. He tried to apologize to her and her family, he tried telling them if he could change he could, he tried telling them that he wouldn't bother them again, but the longer he stayed, the louder the threats that they would call the authorities became. He left so fast that he forgot his shoes at the front door.

The man on the radio told him that it was 10:20, too late to call Remus because he didn't want the other man to think that he was making late night calls a habit, but sometimes you put your gut feelings on the back burner to nurse your mental stability back to life. So he found a payphone and a couple coins and dialed Remus' number, listening to the dull ringing in the ear piece of the receiver. “Hello?” He exhaled a little when he heard that it was Remus who had picked up.

 

“Hey Remus, you wanna see something neat?”

 

“Sirius? Jesus I hadn't heard from you in forever.”

 

“Yeah I got rid of my phone.”

 

Remus laughed. “What do you want to show me?”

 

“It's a surprise. When can I see you?”

 

“You can stop by now, Tonks is out with her girlfriends.”

 

* * *

 

“Wow, I didn't think you'd actually do it.” Remus chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“Well I did and it's the best decision I've never made.” he opened the side doors and climbed it, holding them open for Remus before closing them again.

 

“Wow, quite the establishment you've got here.” He laughed, lacing his fingers though the hanging beads. “You have you uh, broken this thing in?” He patted the mattress and raised his eyebrows comically.

 

Sirius laughed. “I actually wanted to talk to you,” he scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “So I'd been dating this girl –”

 

“Really? A girl?”

 

“Why is that so shocking?” Remus turned the corners of his mouth down, raised his eyebrows and shook his head. Sirius just ignored it. “Well I broke up with her today. In fact, I told her I was gay, and besides the spinal bruising I have going on right now, it wasn't so bad.”

 

“Are you trying to convince me to leave Tonks? Sirius I thought we've been over this.”

 

“But I feel so much better, lighter almost.”

 

“And I'm happy for you Sirius, I am –”

 

“But...”

 

“Well, know you everything I'm going to say already. I'm just having fun here, Sirius. I thought you knew that.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

The best thing for them, Sirius decided, was to just live in the moment and not bother worrying about the future. He’d rather just sit contently in Remus’ company while it lasted instead of arguing about the inevitable. For the time being, counting Remus’ freckles and the golden flecks in his eyes was enough. As hard as he tried not to though, he couldn’t help but picture Remus all made up for his wedding day, the thought of Sirius not even crossing his mind as he stood in front of his bride at the altar. That was okay though, you know? His eternal happiness was more important than Sirius’ selfish intentions.

But for now, they were doing seventy miles an hour away from Remus’ suburban life. The tawny haired man was tripping hard in the back of Sirius’ van, laying on the mattress flat on his back, rambling on about how close the pavement was beneath them. Sirius chanced a few quick glances back at Remus, laughing at his wide eyes and the way his hands were curled up on his chest like a child. “I, um… I like this stuff.”

Sirius barked out a laugh, “oh yeah? I thought you might.”

            They had past countless ‘Entering so-and-so’ state signs as they followed the increasing number of other psychedelically painted cars up to Yasgur’s Farm. Remus hadn’t said much since Sirius had dropped the acid down his throat, but he had started to stir behind him and Sirius shifted closer to the door as Remus climb over the seat to sit beside him. He looked at him quickly and raised an eyebrow at him when he saw the way he was looking at him with a stupid grin and blow out pupils.

            Sirius reached over and smoothed his hand over the back of Remus’ head and around to cup his cheek. “I love you,” he muttered, because he knew Remus didn’t want to hear it even though something in his gut always made him say it. Suddenly, Remus bolted forward and kissed him deeply. Sirius closed his eyes and kissed him back until he heard a car horn blare as he drifted into the next lane. “Shit mate, almost got us killed.”

“It was worth it,” Remus stated. “Hey pull into there,” he pointed at a sketchy looking motel. Sirius followed his request and flipped on his turn signal. He parked and they got out, Remus looking at the ground and stepped carefully as if he made one wrong move he would fall into a great abyss.

“Hey,” Sirius greeted the tired looking woman at the front desk. “We need a room.” Sirius flashed her a smile, and it faded as she looked back and forth at them as a hair lip pulled at her mouth. “Two beds,” he snapped as his friendly demeanor shattered. She hummed in disbelief as she took his money and handed him a key.

            Remus hadn’t seemed to notice the encounter as he followed Sirius outside and up a flight of stairs that led to room twenty four. “You know, I didn’t put a mattress in the back of my van to pay for sleazy motels,” he wrinkled his nose as he opened the door and turned on the lights to be greeted by the stench of sex and a not so mysteriously stained bed spread.

“I thought it would be fun to do something wild and crazy.”

“Since when are you wild and crazy,” he couldn’t help but laugh.

            As Remus striped off his jacket and shirt, Sirius kneeled next to the coffee table and dug a baggie out from the inside pocket of his coat. Sirius stood above him and watched as he flipped open a Swiss Army knife and scooped a generous about of white powder out onto the peeling wood. “Ever done coke before?” He asked as he cut the drug into lines. He saw Reus shake his head out of the corner of his eye. He pulled out his wallet and dug a bill out from the worn leather folds before rolling it up between his fingers. “Want to give it a go?” He looked up from under his lashes, holding the rolled dollar up, offering it to Remus.

He didn’t hesitate as he dropped down next to Sirius, “you go first.”

Sirius complied, swooping down and taking the larger line. He threw his head back, his finger under his nose as a smile spread ripped across his face. He shoved the bill into Remus’ hand, placing a hand on his back as he urged him on. Remus took half of it before he rubbed under his nose, throwing his head from side to side sharply. “It’s dripping down the back of my throat,” Remus complained.

“I know isn’t it great,” Sirius giggled, taking what was rest of Remus’ line.

            As Remus saw his hand twitch towards the baggie he had thrown onto the table, he took his face between his hands and kissed him. “Did you really pay for a room just so you could sniff coke? Or are we gonna fuck,” he smiled wickedly, his eyes falling to Sirius’ mouth.

“Who are you and what have you done with Remus Lupin?” Sirius snickered, instantly standing up and scooping Remus up into his arms and throwing his down on the bed. “What do you want me to do?” Sirius leered as he climbed over him and looked down at him with his hands beside his head.

Suddenly shy, Remus blushed and shrugged. “Surprise me.”

Sirius laughed, fluttery and nervous as Remus’ cheeks coloured. He bowed his head and kissed his way from Remus’ collarbone to his lips, taking them in his and sighing hungrily. Remus’s hands were fumbling with his lace up trousers as Sirius unbuttoned his psychedelic shirt. Sirius heard a continuous string of ‘I love you’s pouring out of him without his consent.

Remus’ eyes were shut tight and his mouth was slack as Sirius hooked his knees of the bends of his elbows. “Look at me,” Sirius breathed, waiting before he saw the flecks of gold in Remus’ green eyes before easing his hips forward and pressing their sweat slick foreheads together. He promised himself he wouldn’t say it anymore, he couldn’t, but as Remus looked up at him with big, doe eyes, whimpering with a knit brow as he chewed his bottom lip, Sirius sighed one more ‘I love you’ into his mouth.

“I know,” Remus smiled up at him. Every time he said it, Sirius knew it wouldn’t be returned, but when it wasn’t it never failed to sting like a wasp.

            When they had finished and cleaned themselves off, Remus bent over the side of the bed, fishing for his clothes, but Sirius locked his arms around his waist and pulled him back down to where Sirius was laying. Remus turned over so his head as tucked under Sirius’ chin, his hand flat over his chest to feel for the beat of his heart. “We’ve never done this before, have we?”

“What?” Sirius asked, sniffing until what was left of the drug dripped down his throat and made him numb.

“We’ve never snuggled.” Remus chuckled.

“Is that right?” Sirius hummed, “Well that’s a damn shame, you fit just right.” He pressed his face into the mess of tawny hair on top of Remus’ head, and tightened his hold around the other man.

“How long do you think we can keep this up?” Remus asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

When Sirius’ arms went slack, Remus sat up to look at him. Sirius groaned and covered his face with his arm, “oh come on.”

“Honestly though.”

“Do we have to talk about this now?” Sirius let his arm drop back down to his side as he turned to look at him. “Why now, Remus?”

“I don’t know, it was just on my mind.”

“Why can’t we just live in the moment? Let’s just live in this very moment, really focus on it. If you don’t, I would like to think you’ll regret it when it’s over.”

“So eventually it’s going to be over?”

“Did you listen to anything I just said?” Sirius got off the bed and stepped into his shorts. “I really don’t want to think about this right now, I just want to have a nice couple of days with you without having to think about the future.” As he spoke, he sat back down at the table and cut himself three more lines, taking them each in turn.

“How much of that are you going to do?”

“As much as I damn well please,” Sirius snapped, scooping more powder onto the table.

Remus paused, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

It took a moment for Sirius to respond before saying with a sigh, “I’m not upset love, let’s just forget about it.” He worked with the drug in silence, chopping at it a little more than necessary. He couldn’t feel his front teeth anymore and his throat was going numb, making it had to swallow what little saliva he had left. His eyes were wide and his jaw was clamped shut so firmly that it made the muscles in his jaw flex and twitch, his teeth squeaking as he ground them together.

“Come on, stop that. Let’s get back on the road.” Remus stepped over to the table and stilled Sirius’ hand as he went for the knife. Sirius looked at the knife, up at him, and back down to the table before nodding and picking his jeans up off the floor.

            He pocketed his tools and, without bothering with his shirt, locked the room and Remus followed him down to drop the key off at the front desk. The woman there continued to give them funny looks and scoffed loudly when Sirius shot her an exaggerated wink.

            Miles and miles down the road, things were still tense. Sirius wondered if Remus was still tripping and thought about asking him but instead, at the next red light he took a bump of the coke in his pocket and continued on without a word. “If you’re not going to talk to me, can we at least turn on the radio?” Remus asked, reaching to flip in on in the middle of his question without waiting for a response.

“It’s not that I’m not talking to you,” Sirius said over the beat of one of The Lovin’ Spoonful’s bigger hits, “I’m just… I’m just sad I guess.”

“Don’t be sad –”

“I don’t want to lose you Remus, I just can’t.” His hands tightened on the horizontal wheel. Remus stayed quite, which Sirius supposed was for the best. He didn’t want to ruin what the hippie culture around him promised him to be the best weekend of his life. “Hey,” he said a little overly chipper, I said let’s forget about it,” he almost had to force the smile he flashed at Remus, “Let’s just do a lot of drugs and have a lot of sex and listen to a lot of rock n’ roll, it’ll be a gas Remus, let’s just forget about our lives for a couple days.”


End file.
